- The round shape of the beach reveals the face of the island.
- The attraction of nothing leads me in endless rotation.
- The shore where I met the aground beauty, reminds me a broken hourglass.

A wave of love overwhelms me and tries to carry me to freedom.
(To be continued)

This is not by catching wings that somebody take off.

2. Why do not resurrect now ?

We shall come closer, then no longer be uncertain images.
You shall come closer, then wet your hair to wash the dried blood of my orifices.
You shall come closer, then do not say anything to hear the beating of my heart.

Ghost emerging from limbo to look you straight in the eyes.

You shall come closer, then my wet hair will be able wash the dried blood of your orifices.
You shall come closer, then I will be able to hear our hearts beat in unison.

Ghosts emerging from limbo to touch each one each other, our skins at our feet.

We shall come closer, just to see if the dialogue of our bodies will write a story.

Keep on looking for, despite allready found it, it's turning the wheel of a mill.

3. What happened to the dawn ?

Rumor said that her heart is buried in the land of dreams where time does not exist.

My sharp tongue split the sun before it rose
and there remains only the blood.

I see through my outstretched hands the memorie of the dawn.

The red turned black as the surface vanished,
In the depths I stay despite it's daytime immersed into the night.

The dawn is a little bit you, a little bit me, when we forget our borderlines.

Our time has folded like a bruised body till disappear,
pretending he never existed.

Yet the memory of the dawn continues to blight me endless.

A word that dissapears shake the buildings.

4. Pores and skin.

When I am the silent
love once again
goes through my cocoon of illusions.

The surface is permeable when I forget the borderline.

I take back my place inside you.

A drop of you touched me
and woke me up
therefore the illusion of solitude
shattered.

I am with you.

I remember to fall asleep at your side.

The time that separates me from you is only a dream...

Claws and fangs break on innocence.

5. The rebellion of the poet.

The crowd asks,
stray poems,
erupting in all directions,
offset as the venom and eternity,
instead only blood,
flows out my pen.

In my outdoor circus,
I refuse to play fantasy.
In my tawny mouth,
I find what is beyond,
speech.

The scream of the soul.
The naked sound.
The vibration that nothing can hide.

To be is not writing,
but consciously draw your life,
puting in your gesture,
all your will
and going through the crowd
as with a bow.

All moral prohibition's transgressions are better than none.

6. Free love.

I could call her waking life, but she's got a name that I keep secret.

If I was a source, she would make me squirt.

I stopped playing words when I began to really enjoy life.
To describe the beauty is signing it death warrant.

If I were a stone, she would make me jump.

I stopped to draw her when I understood that a concept only makes sense if it takes shape in life.
The golden bars of the cage next to be disassembled became the twigs of our nest.

If I were a tree, she would make me run.

I stopped talking since I want to hear her whisper.

I stopped to wait for her since I want she could come.

I stopped to be shaky since I want to touch her.

I stopped to believe in an ideal since I want to meet her.

I stopped letting myself be lulled by the course of destiny since I found my being purpose.

My eyes saw only a projection,
now they stroke the present with the fire intensity.

Only her can touch me.

(Only her could save me.)

Intimacy self regenerate into the universal ocean.

8. Naked evidence.

What I took as dawn,
this is how our colors shimmer
when we meet.

Together, we are a garden of being,
an utopia become true,
marvel of diversity,
constantly changing,
wide of all paradoxes,
free as a conscious choice.

A promise renewed every instant,
the memory of a caress that will not fade longer than the time it need to reproduce it,
being aware in each breath and offer in each exhalation.

2 fingers on 4 lips...
The meeting of two beings, in whom the body and the mind, finally meet.

The thousand petals lotus is as bud,
as bloomed flower and also faded flower,
it is every moment of the perpetual cycle of life,
when liberated from fear, we realize that the illusion no longer blind us.

I thought walking on the water,
yet I was stepping back to the present time.

She was not a mere destination, indeed we were moving in concert,
then our paths crossed each one.

I felt the scale of possibilities grow exponentially.

Nothing mattered more to me now that to know her.

I became a mere freedom offered to my heart.

To be able to be reach by her hand to give us a chance to be together.

The projection of the film ended when life begins, our life.

The limits of the imagination are the mark of a brush.

9. No pleasure competes with the feeling of this love.

As the hour approached,
I felt the sap rising in me,
statue since a so long time been neglected,
I discovered love as if it was the first time.

It was as if my stone skin,
became the walls of my prison,
now facing this joy without clone,
it broke up like clay in the sun.

In the room in ruins, between the crumbling walls,
your presence like an evidence,
your call echo still resonates
next the sensory fireworks swirls
and I realize that this is life.

To wish everything till I share it with you.
To wish all the emotions till I share them with you.
To wish to know love together and deliver it as it delivered us.

I do not know the future,
but this present I live,
is an unspeakable happiness
without lure or fear,
a preview of a possible future.

You are free to meet me.

Who you are, no words can translate it,
but each time my lips dare hum,
I believe that you are listenable mixed with love.